


Necroluna Decalibra

by CorrosiveGod



Category: Original Work
Genre: New Years, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 14:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17644304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorrosiveGod/pseuds/CorrosiveGod
Summary: New Year Same Shit





	Necroluna Decalibra

Ambulent yet still confined to sky 

as it passes over the familiarities' open plight

Entropotic hedonistic calls 

all meaning fear of self & neighboring minds in the end

No rests for pests I guess no tests 

Pediatric Ology has no mental bound 

no way of showing knowing growing in dark confounds

I've scared myself of you & I

I've scared of my own mind 

I'm scared I'll be left behind 

Frown at me do that I may see what's wrong with-

 

Upset the realms further into lies 

there is no herbal spirit waiting to free you of acid lines

I cannot feel for you

I can't feel what you do when you're killing things

To me it's just confusion for a being

 

The Metronome calls out

It's time to rewind time

It's time to box with them

the three hands that grab me by the neck

& squeeze 

until i'm green with envy on my past

formaldehyde bring macabre needs about

My wanting to be harmed & scared is not my fault

I swear it's not

Tick tock

 

Beating of drums & spheres dropping around 

taunting Arcturus with Juno's death & popping as we with in

Muted combustions 

Quiet implosions

Boosted eruptions

Unheard Detonations

Silent explosions

 

& the next after next after never be good

With regret not for evil we'll do it again

With the rats & the arrows & mold & the crossbones

WIth the electric minds & the profitable bindings

Made of worn out green ribbons & the crowds tie the red ones

all proud & all knowing & killing the smokestacks 

as they plead not of evil we mock their new flavors

 

& this in our court where we shun all creation of sultry & taboo

& microphone Jockeys & false drum patterns

& rewarding the Necroiocus & -ludos

may the next to be oldest repeat hate of zen 

& the pattern repeats with the pendulums weight 

but the metronomes crank is in the holograms banks

 

So the moon won't find nothing

the old will keep falling

the old becomes new

the new becomes old

the mental ones die out

the healthy ones dry out

the violent are praised

the humble are drained

 

**When the first name was written out no one saw it rain...**


End file.
